


Superficial

by AmberBrown



Series: Earning Their Keep [11]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-10 15:11:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13504140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberBrown/pseuds/AmberBrown
Summary: ‘Porthos watched his smiling friend as the crinkle at the corners of his eyes disappeared and a look of shock spread across his face.‘No! Luc!’Porthos had no time to react or think. Aramis grabbed him and pushed him down, his arm flung across his back.The last thing Porthos remembered of the incident was the sound of an explosion and seeing the edge of the table.’Aramis is injured and has a hard time coming to terms with it. D’Artagnan tries to help but inadvertently makes it worse, for both of them.





	1. Burn

**Author's Note:**

> This came from an idea by Lady_Neve (thanks!).  
> If you have not read the rest of the series this can be read alone, but I’m not stopping you from reading the other stories!  
> Aramis and d’Artagnan are in an established relationship.

Porthos watched as Aramis talked the cadet, Luc, through what he needed to do. Aramis had touched the young man several times, leaving his hand on the man’s waist far longer than was strictly necessary. 

Porthos would have to have a word with his friend. Flirting with the cadets was not a good idea. When the marksman turned towards him and saw the scowl on his face Aramis laughed.

‘Luc,’ he said glancing at the young man, ‘I think Porthos is jealous, he’s obviously been standing there long enough to think that I am flirting with you.’

Porthos could not help a surprised expression pass across his face, causing both the other men to laugh. Luc had a slightly flushed face as if he had been caught doing something he should not be.

‘I knew you were there, my friend,’ said Aramis as he walked around the table to the chair he had hung his doublet over and started to search through the pockets for something.

Porthos turned his back to Luc and glared at the marksman. 

Aramis rolled his eyes and said quietly, ‘if you must know, I found out that his interests are similar to mine and d’Artagnan’s. He’s lonely, I was telling him I could probably find him a friend...a friend with similar interests.’

‘Oh,’ said Porthos as he worked out what Aramis meant. 

He had noticed that Luc was quiet around the other cadets and did not want to go with them to the rowdier taverns where the women sold themselves to any willing young man who would pay. And Aramis, who had a talent for spotting if any of the new recruits were similar to him, always made a point to tell the young men where it was safe for them to go and to instil in them what they could and could not get away with in the garrison. 

‘Luc,’ said Aramis, a smile playing across his lips, ‘just so you know, Porthos is not interested.’

Porthos hit Aramis, playfully saying, ‘I hate you sometimes. Luc, you would be better off keeping away from this one.’

Luc laughed and went back to his work.

‘What can I do for you?’ asked Aramis, turning his full attention to his friend. 

‘You can stop work and come with me to the Peacock for dinner, since it’s your turn to pay.’

‘I might have known that was all you wanted me for,’ replied Aramis with a grin.

Porthos smiled back. They were both missing Athos and d’Artagnan, who had been away on a lengthy assignment, and had taken to visiting the tavern every couple of days for dinner and card games.

‘We’ll be finished in here soon anyway,’ said Aramis.

Porthos watched his smiling friend as the crinkle at the corners of his eyes disappeared and a look of shock spread across his face. 

‘No! Luc!’

Porthos had no time to react or think. Aramis grabbed him and pushed him down, his arm flung across his back. 

The last thing Porthos remembered of the incident was the sound of an explosion and seeing the edge of the table.

MMMM

‘Porthos!’

Treville and Lemay looked across to Aramis, who had shouted. They quickly closed the gap between the bed they had been standing by and Aramis who, despite shouting out, did not seem to be awake.

‘Aramis,’ said Treville firmly, ‘you have to calm down.’

Aramis did not hear his captain. He reached out with his hand and appeared to be pushing something, or someone, thought Treville.

He grabbed the wandering hand and pushed it back down.

‘Luc!’

Treville and Lemay exchanged a glance, Aramis was dreaming about the explosion.

‘Aramis, wake up, please wake up. You’re safe now.’

Treville shook his head.

‘We will just have to wait it out again,’ said Lemay.

This was not the first time the marksman had experience a nightmare since he had been brought into the infirmary after the explosion.

Without warning Aramis opened his eyes and looked at Treville, he was breathing quickly, clearly confused. He sat up.

‘Porthos!’ he said wildly looking around and trying to escape from the bed where Treville was struggling to keep him.

Lemay grabbed a small vial of liquid and firmly held the injured man’s face as Treville grabbed him around the back of the neck. With a bit of persuasion, they managed to get Aramis to drink the liquid. As his struggles subsided and his breathing settled, Treville lay him back down and tidied the blanket that was covering him.

‘If he continues to be combative we will have to tie him down until we can get him to listen to us,’ said Treville, ‘but I would rather not do that.’

He looked across to the still form of Porthos on the next bed, a bandage wrapped around his head. Lemay followed his gaze.

‘Hopefully Porthos will wake up soon, I think it will help Aramis if we can show him that Porthos is alright.’

Treville nodded before saying sadly, ‘I hope knowing Porthos is alright will be enough to placate him.’

MMMM

Porthos slowly opened his eyes. He wished he had not. It was far too bright. He closed his eyes again with a sigh. He had a concussion. Not a bad one, but he knew he would feel dizzy and nauseous for a while. He wondered if he was injured anywhere else. 

‘I’ll close the shutters for you,’ said a familiar voice.

Lemay, the court physician, thought Porthos. Typical of Treville to ensure only the best doctors were allowed near his men. 

‘How is your head?’ Lemay asked as he wandered around the room making the light progressively dimmer. 

‘Not bad,’ Porthos managed to say, his voice a little croaky, his throat dry. 

As he slowly opened his eyes again he saw the doctor stood above him pouring water into a cup. He leant over and gently lifted Porthos’ head so that he could drink.

After slaking his thirst Porthos slowly sat up. Lemay steadied him, and looked at him carefully.

‘Are you sure you want to be sat up?’

‘It’s really not that bad, I’ve ‘ad worse hangovers,’ he said with a small smile.

As Lemay moved away Porthos noticed the two other occupants of the infirmary. A covered body lying by the far wall, the bloodstained sheet telling Porthos all he needed to know. And in the bed next to him, Aramis, asleep or unconscious. 

His friend was lying slightly on his left side, bandages covered the right side of his face as well as his right shoulder and arm. Porthos looked to Lemay.

‘We think he pushed you down, which is why you only have a concussion. But he was caught by the blast. The burns are superficial. They will heal well. Provided they are kept clean and the dressings changed frequently he should be fine. There probably won’t be any scarring.’

Porthos looked his friend over, his eyes settled on the marksman’s bandaged hand.

‘The burn is to the back of his hand, his fingers are fine, I don’t think his shooting...or sewing will be affected.’

Porthos breathed a sigh of relief, Aramis would be devastated to lose his sharpshooting skills. 

‘I guess that’s Luc,’ said Porthos looking sadly at the body.

Lemay nodded, ‘he was alive when they pulled him out. But his injuries were not survivable. He was too close to the blast. He never regained consciousness...which was probably a good thing, he would have been in severe pain.’

‘Will Aramis be in pain?’

‘Yes,’ said Lemay simply.

‘Are you keeping him unconscious?’

‘No, he woke earlier, but the pain and confusion made him combative. We were worried he would cause himself further injury so I drugged him...we were hoping that you would be awake when he comes around again.’

Porthos nodded, ‘I can’t really remember what happened, but I know he’ll blame himself for Luc’s death.’

As if on cue, Aramis moaned and tried to move his right arm, hissing in pain as he did so. 

‘Easy,’ said Porthos as he slowly swung his legs off the bed and leaned forward to touch Aramis. 

He hooked his fingers around Aramis’ left hand, his friend instinctively tightened his fingers around Porthos’ as he worked through the pain he had just caused himself. 

Lemay had approached the marksman from the other side.

‘Aramis, it’s Lemay, I’m going to help you to lie on your back. Take it easy though, you’re injured.’

Aramis managed a nod, he had not opened his eyes. Porthos eased himself off his bed, not breaking the contact he had with his brother as he did so. Together they helped Aramis onto his back, his breathing was a little laboured. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times. He focused on Porthos.

‘Hello,’ Porthos said trying to keep his expression neutral. He was pleased his friend was awake, but he knew that Aramis was probably still trying to work out what had happened. 

For the next few seconds, Porthos watched as the memories flooded back to his friend. His eyes widened, his breathing started to grow quick again.

‘Luc?’

Porthos shook his head. Aramis looked away, towards Lemay.

‘I’m sorry Aramis, there was nothing we could do for him. He must have been right by the explosion.’

Porthos saw tears in Aramis’ eyes as he took in the news. He rubbed his thumb across his friend's hand.

‘Are you in much pain?’ asked Lemay, as he tried to keep the marksman focused.

Aramis thought about the questions. Porthos could tell he was going to lie.

‘Tell us the truth Aramis, you’ve been injured, you must be in pain.’

Aramis looked back at Porthos who looked at his friend sternly. Aramis nodded.

‘What are my injuries? Was I burnt?’

‘Yes, you’ve got burns across the side of your face, your shoulder and your arm, down to the back of your hand.’

Aramis looked down at his bandaged arm, slowly lifting it up as he did so.

‘The burns are not deep though,’ continued Lemay, ‘they will heal, you shouldn’t be scarred, provided you keep the wounds clean and change the dressings often.’

Aramis nodded slightly, looking at his hand.

‘Your fingers are fine,’ said Porthos, before looking up at Lemay, ‘we’ll make sure ‘e looks after himself.’

‘I know you will...I’ll let Treville know you’re awake and not distressed this time.’

Aramis looked at Lemay, ‘distressed?’ 

‘You woke earlier and were combative with Treville and I, I’m not surprised you don’t remember. I think you had been dreaming about the explosion. I had to give you a sleeping draught.’

Lemay left them alone. Porthos took the cup of water that he had been given earlier and helped Aramis to drink. 

‘Help me to sit up,’ Aramis asked, before adding, ‘I’m going to sit up, even if you don’t help me.’

Porthos managed a chuckle as he slowly leaned forward and helped to ease his injured friend into a sitting position.

‘Your head?’

‘Will get better,’ replied Porthos, ‘you saved me. Thank you.’

‘I didn’t save him,’ said Aramis looked over to Luc’s body.

‘There was no time, you were not close enough. Aramis, you could not have saved him.’

Aramis looked back at Porthos and nodded slowly.

‘I know...but I was responsible for him...I told him not to put a flame anywhere near the powder…’

‘Exactly, you told him...you drum it into them all. Aramis I’ve seen you yell at recruits who disobey that order. You are not to blame.’

The door to the infirmary was pushed open, Treville entered a slight smile on his lips. 

‘I’m pleased to see you both awake.’

‘Captain,’ they both replied with a nod. 

Lemay busied himself packing his medical bag, ‘I will return in the morning to change your dressing, Aramis. I’ve left several vials of painkillers and sleeping draughts if either of you need it. Porthos, I think you will be alright by tomorrow, you probably know better than I how to tell when your head is better.’

Porthos chuckled at the remark.

Lemay bid them goodnight and left, quietly closing the door behind him. Treville sat on the edge of Porthos’ bed and regarded his two injured men.

‘Do you remember what happened?’ he asked.

Porthos glanced at Aramis who looked away, over at the body of the cadet.

‘Luc had a naked flame near the gunpowder. I was talking to Aramis when he saw what Luc was doing. Aramis only had time to push me out of the way.’

‘I’m sorry sir, it was my fault,’ said Aramis as he looked back at his Captain.

‘No it wasn’t,’ said Porthos.

‘I agree with Porthos,’ said Treville, ‘they are all taught how to handle gunpowder when they first arrive. Even the ones with experience are taught how we deal with it...Luc knew what he was doing.’

‘He can’t have, if he had a flame in the armoury,’ said Aramis, ‘I should have kept a closer eye on him.’

‘I do not want you blaming yourself for this Aramis. It was his mistake, and he paid the price. I do not blame you and I do not want you dwelling on it. You need to concentrate on yourself. You’re injured. I want you better and back working.’

Treville patted Aramis’ leg as he stood up.

‘Yes, Captain,’ said Aramis quietly.

‘Do either of you need anything?’

When both men shook their heads Treville left them alone. 

‘Do you want one of the painkillers?’ asked Porthos. 

He was surprised to see Aramis nod, his friend usually hid injuries and pain. More than once he had left an injury untreated whilst he dealt with his brothers first and then suffered for it later. 

Porthos took the stopper from the vial of pain-killing liquid and held it out to Aramis who took it with his left hand and drank. He pulled an unimpressed face as he swallowed.

‘That bad?’

‘I hope it works, it tastes awful,’ said the marksman with a smile.

Porthos knew the smile was for his benefit, to try to make him think that Aramis was not going to dwell on the young cadet's death. But Porthos knew his friend would. 

MMMM 

The following morning, Porthos woke feeling significantly better. His concussion had faded during the previous day and he had slept reasonably well. He glanced to his left, the bed Aramis was using was empty. His friend was sat across the room by the body of Luc. Porthos was a little annoyed that they had not been able to remove the cadet's body, but Treville had said his parents, who lived nearby wanted to see his body before it was buried. 

Porthos watched as Aramis prayed. It was clear the marksman did not realise he was being observed. Aramis was blaming himself and being in the same room as Luc was not going to help him.

The door opened, Treville and Lemay entered. Treville looked slightly annoyed to see where Aramis had moved to, he glanced at Porthos who nodded his agreement. Lemay crossed the room and pulled up a chair to sit next to Aramis and after talking to him briefly began to change the dressing. Aramis winced several times during the procedure, the pain the man was in becoming evident.

Treville sat on the edge of Porthos bed.

‘How are you this morning?’

‘Much better, I’ll be able to return to work…’

Treville tilted his head slightly before saying, ‘no, you will stay here for another few hours at least, I don’t want you collapsing in a heap somewhere.’

Porthos smiled and nodded before saying quietly, ‘can’t we get the body moved? It’s not doing ‘im any favours.’

‘Luc’s parents should be here this morning...but yes you are right,’ Treville paused looking at the marksman who had been forced to turn away from Luc so that Lemay could redress the wounds on his face, ‘I think it might be better if I send Aramis home.’

Porthos nodded his agreement.

‘You can visit him to change the dressings, he’s not going to be able to do it himself...and that way we can keep an eye on him without him being constantly reminded of what happened.’

‘When are Athos and d’Artagnan due back?...I’ve lost track of the days, sorry,’ asked Porthos.

Treville smiled, understanding, ‘tomorrow.’

‘They can help with him. I’m sure once he’s in less pain he’ll start to feel better and realise he’s not to blame for this.’


	2. Anymore

Aramis allowed Treville to drape the plain cloak over his shoulders, his captain fastened it for him to prevent it slipping off. He could not put his doublet on, but he did not want to walk back to his rooms in just his shirt sleeves. 

‘You rest, Aramis, try not to dwell on what has happened...that’s an order,’ said Treville.

‘Yes Captain,’ said Aramis with a pained smile, ‘I know it’s not my fault, but I can’t help feeling a little responsible.’

Treville squeezed Aramis’ uninjured shoulder, ‘Porthos will come and see you later and Athos and d’Artagnan should be back tomorrow, I am sure they will both come to visit you...I’ll probably have a hard time keeping d’Artagnan away.’

Aramis looked away at Treville remark, he knew Treville found it amusing to remind him every so often that he knew about their relationship.

‘Would you like me to accompany you?’

‘No, thank you. I’ll be fine.’

Treville stepped away from him. After nodding a goodbye to Porthos, Aramis turned to the garrison gates and made his way out onto the streets of the city. 

He felt a little naked without his doublet and all his weapons. He was not used to walking the streets without his sword and guns. But as he was not in uniform, he would not be recognised as a soldier, so the chances of a confrontation were slim. He had retained his main gauche, which was tucked into his belt at the small of his back. He knew he would not be able to defend himself particularly well with only the use of his left arm, but he was not prepared to walk about completely unarmed. 

The streets were busy, he had to hold his injured arm across his body for fear of being knocked. He knew it would be painful to have the wounds agitated. He was experiencing a constant ache across the affected area anyway. He had found the process of getting the dressing changed uncomfortable. Lemay had been forced to stop a couple of times when he had found it overwhelming. 

When the bandages had been unravelled and he saw the extent of the damage to his shoulder and arm he had been shocked. Lemay had assured him that the wounds would heal, and not scar but Aramis was not so sure. He worried that he would not regain full use of his arm. Lemay had made him flex his fingers and move his hand. When he had found that he could he had been relieved. Lemay reassured Aramis that he was sure he would fully recover.

As he walked Aramis noticed that people were looking at him. But it was different to the way they usually looked at him. Normally people moved aside for soldiers, who walked purposefully through the streets. This was different, some people were giving him an unusually wide berth. Where people would normally look away with misplaced guilt when they saw a soldier, now people were openly staring at him. 

Aramis realised they were not staring at him, they were staring at his bandages. The ones covering half his face could not be hidden and the cloak had slipped back as he walked revealing his injured arm. He awkwardly pulled the cloak back, hissing in pain as he did so. 

A couple of dirty street boys noticed him. 

‘Oi, freak,’ one of them called. 

Aramis tried to glare at them, but he was not sure he pulled the expression off. He did not feel intimidating. If anything, he felt intimidated. By boys. 

He hurried on, feeling pathetic. It was nothing to be ashamed of. He had been injured. But the stares felt wrong. He liked it when people looked at him and appreciated his good looks. He knew he was attractive, he flaunted the fact frequently. But now he was being looked at due to a perceived deformity. 

He felt exposed and vulnerable. The people were not appreciating his looks, they were pitying him.

MMMM

As they trotted into the garrison courtyard both men brought their horses to a quick stop, stunned at the sight that greeted them.

Where the armoury had been, a gaping hole now existed a mess of rubble and wood piled up inside. Dust and small pieces of the armoury wall littered the ground for several meters. Labourers were busy removing the remains of the room.

As they handed their tired horses off to a couple of stable boys Athos and Aramis wandered closer to the area. A couple of cadets saw them and moved away, glancing back as they did so. Athos watched them go curiously. 

‘There was an explosion,’ said Treville from behind them.

‘I can see that,’ replied Athos as he and d’Artagnan turned to him.

Treville walked up to them and stood for a moment looking at the mess.

‘Was anyone in there, when it happened?’ asked d’Artagnan.

When Treville hesitated, Athos knew that there had been.

‘Porthos, Aramis and Luc were in there.’

Athos moved his hand to rest on d’Artagnan’s arm when the colour drained from his face. He suspected he had a similar complexion. 

‘Luc was killed, he was the one that caused the explosion, it was an accident, we are sure of that.’

‘And Porthos and Aramis?’

‘Aramis pushed Porthos out of the way, Porthos has a concussion. Aramis was caught by the blast, he has burns to his face and arm,’ Treville stopped them both from asking any questions as he continued, ‘Lemay is sure Aramis will make a full recovery. Porthos is still in the infirmary, although he is itching to get out. And I sent Aramis home a couple of hours ago.’

D’Artagnan looked a little confused, ‘wouldn’t he have been better off staying here?’

‘He was blaming himself for Luc’s death. The lad's body was only taken away an hour ago. I had to send Aramis away to stop him getting too maudlin. I told him I’d be sending Porthos over to see him, but as you are back early, d’Artagnan, I won’t keep you from seeing him now.’

D’Artagnan nodded, he looked back at the piles of rubble.

‘They were lucky Aramis was able to react in time,’ remarked Treville.

‘You’re back!’

They both turned as Porthos called out across the garrison, he was stood in the doorway of the infirmary smiling broadly, a bandage wound around his head.

‘I don’t need either of you until tomorrow,’ said Treville as he walked off. 

They crossed to Porthos who embraced them both firmly.

‘How are you?’ asked Athos as the big Musketeer released him.

‘I’ve ‘ad worse,’ replied Porthos as he looked across at the ruined armoury.

‘What about Aramis, how is he?’ asked d’Artagnan 

‘Blaming ‘imself. We thought it best to get him out of the garrison.’

‘Probably a good idea,’ said Athos.

Athos noticed d’Artagnan glancing towards the garrison gate, he knew his friend wanted to leave them and visit their injured friend. 

‘You can go, wish him well from us,’ said Athos with a nod. 

‘Tell ‘im I’ll see him tomorrow.’

‘I will,’ said d’Artagnan as he walked away.

As they watched their brother walk hurriedly away Athos turned to Porthos. He did not need to ask the question.

‘I’m worried about ‘im. He was blaming himself despite us telling him it was an accident. He feels responsible for Luc. I found him this morning just sitting by the body.’

‘Hopefully, d’Artagnan will be able to lift his spirits.’

Porthos nodded his agreement.

MMMM

Aramis had shut and locked the door to his rooms. He was glad his landlady had not been around when he returned. He did not feel up to explaining to her what had happened. 

The staring and remarks had continued for the entire journey. The two street boys had followed him for some time jeering at him, the unkind words continued to be shouted at him. Somehow the abuse seemed to intensify the pain he was in. The last painkilling drink he had taken was wearing off, but he was loath to take another. He knew there was likely to be elements of the mixture that were addictive and that would not do for a soldier. 

As he undid the cloak and dropped it over the back of a chair he could not help but dwell on his journey back to his rooms. The way he had been treated played on his mind. Why did it bother him so much?

The young lads who had harassed him probably knew no better, and the people that had actively avoided him might have thought he was in some way contagious. 

It occurred to him that he had not seen what he looked like since the accident. He had been preoccupied with Luc. Rightly preoccupied, he thought, the young cadet’s death was partly his fault despite what Treville and Porthos had said. He should have been watching Luc carefully instead of joking with Porthos.

He felt guilty, perhaps the pain he was in was his punishment. Another reason not to use any more of the painkilling drinks. 

He walked through to his bedroom, a mirror hung on the wall. He stood in front of it and looked at the bandages that shielded the burn on his face. He was tempted to remove the bandages to see the extent of the injury and if he agreed with Lemay’s assessment that he would not be left scarred. But he knew he would not be able to put the bandages back with only the use of his left arm. He could move his right arm, but it was painful to do so, and he lacked any strength in it. 

From what he had seen of the burns to his arm and shoulder he knew his facial injuries would look bad. But the burns were shallow, they would heal. He knew that. At least that is what he kept telling himself. 

The thought that he might be permanently affected by the burns was becoming a more prevalent thought in his mind. 

If he lost full use of his arm and shoulder, he would not be able to fight with a sword or hold a musket properly. He could probably still fire a gun, but loading it would be difficult without full flexibility. 

And if he was left with scarring to his face…

The thought that he might be scarred, actually frightened him. Why did it frighten him? He was a soldier. He had scars, all over his body. He had the faint one across his forehead, although most of his lovers found that to be an attractive addition to his features.

But burns. That would be different. His lovers would not appreciate that. The ladies liked him for his current looks. They would not like an ugly, scarred soldier. 

Luc was dead. What did his looks matter?

Was he so superficial and shallow that he was really that concerned with his ability to woo women into bed? To bed them so that he could charm money from them? He used his looks to his advantage. 

If he did not have his looks. What was he?

MMMM

D’Artagnan quietly walked passed the landlady’s door, he was fairly sure that she knew about their relationship but chose not to say anything anymore. Aramis was able to pay her well for the rooms he used and had twice slept with her to placate her. D’Artagnan smiled at the tale Aramis had told of how he had been deliberately bad in bed with her to put her off further liaisons. How Aramis could be bad in bed was beyond d’Artagnan comprehension. 

As he reached the door to Aramis’ room he reached out for the handle but found the door locked. He knocked lightly and waited. It took him a couple of minutes, probably due to the pain and fatigue thought d’Artagnan, but Aramis opened the door. 

D’Artagnan had to hide the gasp that wanted to escape him when he saw his lover. The side of his face was swathed in bandages along with this right shoulder and arm. The fabric wrapped the length of his arm. His shirt sleeve had been ripped to accommodate the bandages. A second bandage was covering his right hand.

Aramis looked tired, his eyes showed remorse and sadness. He stepped aside to allow d’Artagnan to enter the room.

‘We made good time on the journey back.’

Aramis did not respond, he closed the door and locked it again, he turned slightly, away from d’Artagnan. Hiding his right side.

‘How are you feeling?’ 

D’Artagnan shook his head realising it was a stupid question.

‘Sorry...do you need anything?’

Aramis shook his head, ‘no, I’m sorry, I won’t be very good company.’

‘That doesn’t matter, I want to be with you, you shouldn’t be alone.’

‘Why?’

D’Artagnan looked at his lover, a little confused.

‘Why shouldn’t I be alone? What do you think I am going to do?’

‘I just thought you would like my company,’ said d’Artagnan, realising he would have to tread carefully with his lover. The pain he must have been in, was making him irritable.

‘Thanks,’ replied the marksman with disinterest as he took a seat by the unlit fire.

‘Would you like me to light the fire?’

Aramis looked at him. D’Artagnan realised what he had suggested, a fire was probably the last thing Aramis wanted to be near. 

‘Talk to me, if you want. I’ll just sit and listen. You need to talk about it. You know our rule, not bottling it up. It never ends well.’

D’Artagnan sat in the chair opposite his lover. He knew that both of them had, at times, not related all that was bothering them and dwelt on events to the detriment of their wellbeing. He did not want Aramis to keep his worries to himself.

Aramis twisted slightly, turning the bandaged side of his face away.

‘Hey, stop doing that,’ said d’Artagnan leaning forward and reaching out. 

He laid his hand on Aramis knee. The marksman did not look at him, he stared at the unlit fire.

‘Do you think I won’t like you if you are left scarred? Do you think I am only with you because you are attractive?’ said d’Artagnan, ‘I’m not with you because of your looks anymore.’

D’Artagnan released Aramis and leaned back in the chair, a little annoyed that his lover was shunning him. When he looked up he saw Aramis staring at him. The remorse and sadness gone from his eyes, replaced by an anger and spite that d’Artagnan did not understand at first.

‘Anymore?’

D’Artagnan realised what he had said.

‘You’re not with me because of my looks ‘anymore’? Is that what it was? When you found that you wanted to be with men, you just rolled into bed with me because I look good? Was I just a good-looking fuck?’

‘No, Aramis, that’s not…’

Aramis did not give d’Artagnan a chance to finish. He was shouting at the younger man, breathing quickly as the anger grew.

‘I’ve not been with any other men, by choice, since I’ve been with you...I concentrated on you. And all this time you were only interested in me because I’m attractive. I know I’m attractive, or was, I flaunted it, used it. But with you, I thought you wanted me...for who I am. I’m more than just a pretty face.’

D’Artagnan moved from the chair to kneel in front of Aramis, he wanted to calm his lover, stop the tirade of confused abuse he was spouting. D'artagnan knew Aramis was not thinking straight, he was in pain and depressed. Mourning for Luc.

Aramis pushed d’Artagnan away, he stood up, ‘get out.’

D'artagnan scrambled up to stand, he was not sure what to do. He had only seen Aramis that angry once before. And d’Artagnan had deserved the talking to he had received that time.

He decided it would be better if he left Aramis to calm down. He knew that Aramis would be upset when he realised what he had said. He turned and quietly walked from the room, closing the door behind him. He had only taken two steps when he heard the key turn in the lock.

D’Artagnan hoped that Aramis would see sense. Their relationship meant too much to him to lose it over a stupid misunderstanding.


	3. Superficial

Porthos looked out of the window of the infirmary. He had been busy tidying the room up. Treville would not let him return to full duties so he had decided to make himself useful returning the infirmary to its proper state of readiness after the activity that had obviously gone on in the room after the explosion.

D’Artagnan had walked through the gates of the garrison looking a little lost. Porthos had not been expecting to see the young man until the next morning. Both he and Athos had thought d’Artagnan would spend the night with Aramis.

Porthos walked out of the infirmary and crossed the yard, he reached up and lay his hand on d’Artagnan’s shoulder. The young musketeer turned to him, he was clearly trying not to cry.

‘What’s the matter with you? Is it Aramis, has something happened?’

‘No...I...he…’

D’Artagnan glanced around. There were other Musketeers and a couple cadets nearby. Two of the stable boys were messing about in a corner. Porthos realised d’Artagnan did not want to, or could not, speak in the open. Where others might overhear.

Porthos turned the man around and guided him to the infirmary, he closed the door. He knew they would not be disturbed. He pushed d’Artagnan into a chair and pulled up another to sit opposite him. He waited while the young man gathered his thoughts.

‘He shouted at me, he threw me out.’

‘Why?’

‘He seemed to be worried about me looking at him, he’s worried the burns will leave him scarred. I told him that I...that I…’

‘D’Artagnan, if you need to be candid, then carry on. If you need to tell me about you and Aramis, I won’t repeat anything, even to Aramis. But I cannot help you if you cannot tell me what has happened.’

D’Artagnan took a breath, ‘I told him that I didn’t love him for his looks, that it wouldn’t matter if he was scarred.’

Porthos could not work out why that would have upset Aramis.

‘Why did that make him angry?’

‘I told him I didn’t love him for his looks, anymore.’

Porthos still did not understand. D’Artagnan huffed out an annoyed laugh.

‘You are reacting as I would have expected...he took it badly...he thought that I had only wanted to be with him...at the start, because of his looks.’

‘Anymore…’ Porthos realised what had happened. 

‘It’s true that to start with there wasn’t much more than the...sex...but our relationship has changed so much over the months...the first time...it was not long after we had got back from the men that...the men that raped us both…’

D’Artagnan paused for a second as he tried to push the memory away. Porthos did not interrupt him. 

‘I asked him to have sex with me as a cathartic release, I needed to replace the horror of that event with something pleasurable...but then I...wanted more.’

‘You hadn’t realised you liked men as well as women,’ said Porthos.

D’Artagnan nodded, ‘I wanted to sleep with a man again. Only I didn’t want to sleep with a man, I wanted to sleep with him...and only him. Initially he said no.’

‘Really?’ said Porthos unable to hide his surprise.

‘He was worried that Athos would split us up if we were in a relationship, but Athos didn’t he just asked us to be careful.’

Porthos knew that Athos has been sceptical about their relationship, but he had since seen that it was not causing any issues within the group.

‘At the start it was just...sex, but it changed. I love him, and I’m sure he loves me...I know he didn’t mean what he said, he’s in pain, he’s blaming himself for Luc…’

Porthos let d’Artagnan carry on speaking.

‘What if he does mean it?’

‘No ‘e don’t d’Artagnan, you’re right, he’s in pain. He’s confused. Have you told him, what you just told me?’

‘He didn’t give me the chance. Porthos, he was so angry, I thought it was better for me to leave him alone. I was worried he would strain himself, make the injuries worse.’

Porthos nodded, ‘you’re probably right. Stay away from him for now. Let him calm down.’

D’Artagnan nodded. Porthos felt sorry for the young man, he felt sorry for Aramis, he knew his friend would be upset when he realised what he had done. They had all lashed out when they were hurt or frightened. They all knew it happened, but it did not stop them from feeling bad about it afterwards.

‘I’ll see him tonight to change his dressings. I’ll let you know how he is. He may even have calmed down already.’

D’Artagnan nodded with a sad smile.

MMMM

Athos knocked on Aramis’ door. 

Porthos had spoken to him about the incident between Aramis and d’Artagnan, he had not gone into great detail, not wishing to betray d’Artagnan’s trust. Athos had understood. But Porthos had been able to tell Athos that the two had argued. Or more precisely Aramis had behaved childishly and thrown d’Artagnan out. Of course they both knew, as did d’Artagnan, that it had been the pain and shock affecting Aramis. The man would not have treated d’Artagnan so callously otherwise. 

D’Artagnan had sulked around the garrison for a few hours before Athos arranged for him to take a shift of guard duty at the Palace. The young man needed to be kept occupied and focusing on work, would help to take his mind off his worries. 

The door opened and Aramis walked away from Athos who showed himself into the marksman’s rooms. 

Aramis stood in the middle of the room looking at Athos, waiting for him to speak first. Porthos and he had decided not to mention the argument. They were not going to pretend they did not know about it, but they did not think it needed to be brought up. At least not until Aramis was not in as much pain. 

‘I have a couple of the pain killing drinks if you want them?’

‘No, it’s not that bad,’ said Aramis, who was obviously lying. 

Athos wondered if this was Aramis’ way of punishing himself as he continued to blame himself for Luc’s death.

‘I’ll leave them for you, in case you change your mind,’ said Athos as he pulled the vials from the bag he had brought with him. 

Aramis pulled out a chair from the table where Athos was stood and sat down. He began to peel off the bandage on his hand. 

‘I can do that,’ Athos said.

‘I can take the bandage off, I just cannot put it back on.’

Athos pulled out the other chair and leaned forward taking over from Aramis who sat limply watching as the injuries were revealed again.

‘Do they look any better?’ asked Athos.

‘A little, I can’t see them all.’

Athos carried on with the task, wondering if he should try to make conversation with the injured man. He was pleased Aramis was talking, even if his answers were brusk.

‘Porthos said they looked better when he changed the dressings yesterday.’

Aramis did not reply.

Athos decided his friend needed to be spoken to firmly. He did not want to pull rank on him, but as a brother, he wanted Aramis to know that what he had done to d’Artagnan was wrong.

‘Would you like d’Artagnan to visit you?’

Aramis just looked at Athos, he remained silent.

‘Your dressings will need to be changed for the next few days…’

‘There is a whole garrison of soldiers. I’m sure the captain could spare a man each day to spend twenty minutes here.’

‘Aramis, we know you are in pain…’

‘Athos,’ replied Aramis, ‘I don’t want to talk about it. It has nothing to do with you. It won’t affect us. We’re soldiers. Professionals. Nothing will change.’

It would, thought Athos, but he was still convinced, as Porthos was, that once Aramis had recovered, and had time to think, he would realise what he had done. Athos decided not to push the subject, it had been risky to bring the matter up. 

‘Has Luc been buried yet?’

‘No, the funeral is arranged for Wednesday. Will you attend?’

‘I would like to,’ replied Aramis looking down. 

‘If you are sure.’

Aramis nodded. Athos continued to deal with the injuries to Aramis’ arm. Once he had finished he began to remove the bandage from Aramis’ head. As the dressing fell away, Aramis stood up and walked to the bedroom. Athos knew the marksman wanted to look at the burns. Porthos had said he had done the same thing the day before. 

‘It will heal, Aramis.’

The marksman took a few seconds to reappear. Athos waited, humouring his friend.

As Aramis returned to the chair Athos picked up a fresh dressing, without saying anything he dressed the wounds. Once he had finished he tidied up as Aramis moved back to the chair by the unlit fire. Athos noticed the blanket slung over the chair. His friend had not lit the fire since he had been injured. 

‘You won’t help yourself if you get cold, Aramis. I know you probably do not want a fire lit at the moment, but the nights are still cold.’

Aramis looked up from the chair and nodded, he made to move but was stopped by a wave of Athos’ hand.

‘I will do it. And I am going to sit with you for a bit as well. We do not have to talk if you do not want to.’

Aramis managed a smile, ‘sorry, I’m not good company.’

‘Exactly why I am going to sit with you for a while.’

Athos set about lighting the fire. He would not harass his friend about the argument with d’Artagnan any further. Aramis was obviously still suffering, but Athos hoped that he was beginning to recover.

MMMM

They had told him it was not a good idea. That Aramis was still in too much pain and depressed. But d’Artagnan decided to go anyway. Porthos had told him that the wounds were healing well, that it was becoming clear that the marksman would not be scarred. They had stopped dressing the burns on his arm and shoulder. Aramis had retained full movement. It was looking hopeful that he would make a full recovery. Only the bandages on his hand and face were still being changed daily. 

Aramis would probably return to the garrison on light duties in the next couple of days. D’Artagnan did not want that to happen before he had seen Aramis. 

The few days since his lover had thrown him out had been torturous for him. Constance was away with her husband, he could only talk to Athos and Porthos. Athos found the conversations awkward so d’Artagnan had not really brought the issue up. Porthos had listened and helped but neither man could solve the problem. Only he could solve the problem.

As he stood at the door his hand poised to knock he wondered if he should have listened to them, and not come. Should he have waited until Aramis was no longer in pain? Was he about to ruin any chance of a reconciliation?

He knocked.

He heard movement, the key turned in the lock. The door opened a few inches. When Aramis saw him he tried to close the door. D’Artagnan was prepared for that. He pushed his way in, taking his lover by surprise. 

He grabbed Aramis firmly on the left shoulder, he closed and locked the door. Turning back to Aramis who still looked shocked he pushed the man firmly back a few paces and down into the chair by the hearth.

Aramis recovered his wits but d’Artagnan spoke before he could.

‘No, you are going to sit there and listen to me.’

D’Artagnan realised he had recreated the time Aramis had given him a thorough talking to but with their positions and roles reversed.

‘When I said I didn’t love you for your looks anymore, I meant it.’

Again, Aramis went to speak, again d’Artagnan spoke first.

‘I meant it because at the start, I needed someone to help me. I had just been raped. I had been violently assaulted, and you helped me. You were there for me. You did something that I could not have asked anyone else to do.’

D’Artagnan paused for a moment, he blinked a few times, he willed the memory to go.

‘Then when I realised I wanted to be with you again, you let me in. You let me be with you. I admired you, I saw the way you handled yourself. To start with it was lust, it was an attraction. Yes, Aramis, I wanted to be with you because you are attractive. But I didn’t want to be with you because you were the first man I saw. I am appalled you thought that. I wanted you for you. The kind, witty man I grew to love. I love you as much as I love Constance.’

Aramis was sat open mouthed staring at him, it was not often his lover was left speechless. D’Artagnan could only think of one time.

‘Aramis, I know you reacted the way you did because you are in pain and you are blaming yourself for Luc’s death. But I don’t want you to overthink this and start to believe what you said. I’m not prepared to throw away our relationship and everything we have been through because you misinterpreted something I said when you were not thinking straight. I’m sorry Aramis, but you are stuck with me.’

D’Artagnan realised he had worked himself up and should probably stop talking. He turned back to the door, unlocked it and left, leaving the door ajar. He had to get away from Aramis, he did not want the man to see him cry. What if he had overstepped the mark? What if Aramis did not want him anymore?

MMMM

Aramis stared at the open door. He was speechless, he could only think of one time when d’Artagnan had left him in such a state before. He found himself smiling at the memory. 

Everything the young man had said was true. He had been prepared to throw away everything because he had misunderstood. No. He had not misunderstood, he had not thought it through. Their relationship had been built around sex to start with, but it had quickly developed into more.

Without thinking, Aramis hurried from the room and down the stairs. He reached the street, looking in the direction of the garrison he saw d’Artagnan walking away. His lover was not walking quickly, he appeared lost in thought. Aramis walked after him as fast as he could. He had not been out of his rooms in several days. He had almost forgotten the horrible walk from the garrison, but now, outside again, exposed, he remembered it. But he was determined not to let d’Artagnan get away. 

He ignored the stares and comments. The bandage on his face drew attention. When he had almost reached his lover, someone made a comment loud enough for d’Artagnan to hear. He turned back. They looked at each other for a few seconds.

The scruffy drunk man abused Aramis again. Aramis turned to the man not quite knowing what to say.

D’Artagnan told the man where to go.

MMMM

When he had heard the comments behind him d’Artagnan instinctively knew what it was about. He turned to see Aramis, dressed only in his shirtsleeves staring at him. The drunk man shouted at Aramis again. Aramis turned to the man, but d’Artagnan could see his lover was not prepared to rebuke the comment. He seemed upset. D'artagnan could not help a small smile, Aramis never knew how to handle negativity. He was not used to it. 

D’Artagnan took a few steps forward and pushed the man aside, he swore at the man who wandered off.

Aramis grabbed d’Artagnan’s wrist and led him up a narrow alley. He stopped far enough up that people passing on the main street would not be able to see them. 

In the dim light, d’Artagnan could see the tears that had been threatening to fall finally spill down his cheeks. The young man pulled off his glove and reached up to gently wipe them away. Aramis caught his hand and held it to his chest.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You don’t need to apologise. It was a stupid misunderstanding. And now it’s over.’

Aramis looked down for a moment before speaking again. D’Artagnan glanced down the alleyway, they were still alone and not in danger of being found. 

‘Thank you then.’

‘For what. I just shouted at you.’

‘Thank you for making me see sense. You’re right it was the pain talking before, but I was dwelling on it. Turning it over and over in my mind. I had almost convinced myself that you were this shallow, superficial boy, who was using me.’

D’Artagnan smirked.

‘Shallow, superficial boy?’

Aramis smiled, ‘sorry. I’m really quite a horrible individual.’

‘Yes, you are. Very mean. And I want you to make it up to me when you are better.’

Aramis nodded.

D’Artagnan glanced along the alleyway again before leaning forward and gently kissing the side of Aramis’ face that was bandaged.

‘And I really don’t care what you look like.’

Simultaneously, they pulled each other in for a hug. Holding each other tightly. 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.   
> I have the germ of an idea for a more light hearted one ('cos I need to write a light hearted one!) forming in my head, so there will be more.   
> (I think I will be writing the series in my nineties).  
> Any suggetions welcome.


End file.
